


ghost

by stainedglassbirds



Series: the stars have left but we're still here [2]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Blood, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Dewey Duck, Platonic Cuddling, They all need hugs, its mentioned in a flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25300225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stainedglassbirds/pseuds/stainedglassbirds
Summary: Huey rubs her back in slow circles. “You’re allowed to cry.”Webby isn’t sure when he got so perceptive. Maybe he always was, and she never knew. Or maybe it grew the more her little tight knit family did, three additional brothers being added to her life.
Relationships: Dewey Duck & Huey Duck & Louie Duck & Webby Vanderquack, Huey Duck & Webby Vanderquack
Series: the stars have left but we're still here [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833901
Comments: 16
Kudos: 58





	ghost

“Bandages?”  
  
“Bandages are dwindling. I’d say we have a week of them left.”  
  
Webby nods, frowning. Huey gives her a brief glance before returning to their bags of supplies. It’s not surprising they’re running out.  
  
“...How’s Dewey?”  
  
Huey pauses. The air stills for the briefest moment that feels like the longest eternity. He sighs, breaking the silence Webby never wants to experience again but knows she will another million times. “Still sleeping.”  
  
She isn’t sure what she was expecting. Maybe nothing at all.  
  
Her hands twitch, the need to do _anything_ clawing under her skin. Standing here idly, rubbing her arms, her mind feels like a torn children's toy, stuffing spilt for the world to see.  
  
 _Blood spilt across the wooden floor—_ _  
_ _  
_Stop.  
  
Breathe.  
  
“Louie’s with them,” Huey says softly, almost casual in a way that lets Webby pretend they’re talking about something else. _  
__  
_Before Webby has a chance to think of a response, Huey continues. “You could be too.”  
  
Oh.  
  
She slowly lowers herself to the ground. The floor isn’t comfortable, but her legs tremble like jello. Standing for another second doesn’t seem bearable. Existing for another second feels similar. “It’s… I can’t. I can’t, not when I’m the one who—” The words stick in her throat like sludge. Her eyes burn.  
  
 _A sharp scream—_  
  
She wipes away the tears.  
  
Huey’s already moving, tightly wrapping his arms around her. “Webby, it’s _not_ your fault. They agreed to it. They're not going to be mad at you. _None_ of us are mad.”  
  
“It’s not really agreeing when the other option is dying,” she whispers, staring at the floor. The last word is barely heard by the empty house.  
  
“You’re the reason the other option didn’t happen.”  
  
She is.  
  
It doesn’t make her feel better.  
  
Her hands tremble. She grips onto Huey’s shirt, slowly sinking into his embrace, deciding to let herself have this fleeting sense of _safe, safe, safe_ pounding in her heart. Huey rubs her back in slow circles. “You’re allowed to cry.”   
  
Webby isn’t sure when he got so perceptive. Maybe he always was, and she never knew. Or maybe it grew the more her little tight knit family did, three additional siblings being added to her life.  
  
“I don’t feel like I am.”  
  
“If Louie and I are allowed to, you are.”  
  
She sinks a little further. “Louie cries at everything,” she says instead of the million thoughts crushing her. It’s a little unwarranted. Louie had every right to cry. He still does.  
  
“Sometimes you need to be like Louie,” he says in the same hushed, caring, _warm_ tone.  
  
Webby bursts into tears.  
  
“I just w-wish none of this happened,” she babbles, “I wish I hadn’t needed to do— to _do that_ , and I want _Granny_ to be here, and Lena and Violet and Uncle Scrooge and I don’t, I don’t _get it_ —” her voice chokes, sobs wracking her body.  
  
 _The sickening crunch—_  
  
“ _Why_ did this _happen?!_ ” she wails.  
  
Huey softly _shhh’s_ , voice sounding like wax paper, muffled and fluttery. “We’re going to find them. We’ll be okay,” he repeats in a mantra. One hand stays on her back while the other moves to her hair, keeping her anchored with circling movements.  
  
Slowly, her watery hiccups die down, and the shaking is less, enough to make her no longer feel like she’ll break. Her fingers hurt from how tightly they grip onto Huey’s shirt. Each breath punctures her lungs.  
  
It’s okay. It’s okay. Even if her body wants to collapse, the fact she’s still breathing and her heart is beating,  
  
 _they cover their ears,_ _  
_ _  
_makes it okay.  
  
“You good to keep moving?” Huey asks. He doesn’t ask if she’s okay, because she’s not, and he knows she isn’t. The optimist in her desperately wants to believe she will be. An ugly sprout born from this wreck believes she won’t. She doesn’t have the energy to listen to either.  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Okay. We’re going to need to leave soon.”  
  
Webby doesn’t need to ask why. Staying in one place for too long is always a bad idea, especially… especially with their situation. Sometimes it feels like the hoards of those awful, terrible creatures can smell blood from miles away. And… and she doesn’t want to risk anyone getting more hurt than they already have.  
  
There is one concern, though. “What about Dewey?”  
  
Huey hums. “If they don't wake up before we’re in dangerous territory, the only other option is to carry them. It’s a solution that’ll run out fast, but… it can get us through finding another place to stop at.”  
  
Anxiety curls in her stomach. She could carry all three of her siblings easily, strength is the least of her worries, but… it’s risky, even if temporary.  
  
It’s the only option.  
  
She finds herself hating _the_ _only option_ more and more.  
  
There’s always another option, she likes to think, but sometimes you get into a situation where no matter how hard you try there’s only two paths you can see shrouded in darkness. People try their best to choose the lesser evil, the one that hurts the least, if only to give themself that small amount of relief.   
  
Yet, it’s still evil, and she feels the repercussions of it with every second that passes.  
  
Gently, Huey stands up, bringing her with him. He doesn’t let go of her until they’re both on steady feet, and even then he moves to grip her hand tightly.  
  
“We should get some rest,” Huey reminds her of the time, how the sun has long since fell and been replaced with a dark sky. He doesn’t wait for a response, gently pulling her out of the small, claustrophobic room.  
  
She realizes belatedly where they’re headed.  
  
“I…” Webby halts. Huey jerks to a stop, blinking in surprise as he looks at her. “I can’t do this.”  
  
“Webby, I don’t want to leave you alone.” Huey pleads, face scrunched up in a sad, tiredly desperate way. “And we’d feel better if you were with us too instead of sleeping in a different room.”  
  
She shakes her head, torn between wanting to rip her hand out of Huey’s and running as far away as possible or to stop being a coward and take the first step.  
  
Her siblings need her.  
  
 _She_ needs them.  
  
Webby swallows the taste of rust on her tongue. “Okay,” she resolves.  
  
He smiles, saturated in melancholy, and turns, leading her the rest of the way to the door she’s been trying her best to avoid for the past week. It has the same oppressive weight as it did before, towering over her and screaming of the blood that will never wash from her skin.  
  
It feels less scary with Huey’s hand in hers.  
  
He holds the doorknob, steady, and then swings it open as gently and quickly as possible.  
  
“Huey?”  
  
Webby hears Louie before seeing him, his voice thick with drowsiness like he just woke up. He probably did. It’s weird, thinking about how he used to be a deep sleeper. Now it feels like something being put out of place will wake him up. She can’t say she isn’t the same.  
  
“Hey, Louie.” Huey’s voice is coated in a specific affection and gentleness Webby’s only heard from him when he comforts his brothers. He’s always trying to protect them, to be the older brother, to make them feel safe. “Webby’s here. We’re gonna go to bed.”  
  
“Mmm, alright.” Louie sounds muffled, indicating his face is buried into a blanket. “Everything’s good?”  
  
“Everything’s good.” Huey reassures.  
  
Webby’s heart pounds. Huey begins to take the first steps into the room, and she forces herself to move, forces herself to not screw her eyes shut despite how terrified she is of what she’ll see.  
  
 _Slick bright red threatening to drown her—_ _  
_ _  
_Stop. _  
_ _  
_Just breathe.  
  
She steels herself, and walks in.  
  
It’s…  
  
The room is dark, with only a nightlight providing any source of brightness to not attract any attention. There’s a few sleeping bags on the floor and piles of blankets and pillows Huey presumably managed to scrounge up from around the house.  
  
It’s…  
  
Louie’s face is, infact, buried into a blanket. He’s sitting on a chair at the edge of the bed, upper half splayed over it. One hand is under his head, the other, holding…  
  
 _It’s okay._ _  
_  
She takes a moment.  
  
Louie is holding onto Dewey’s hand, the latter unnaturally still under the covers. She can barely see their head peeking out, face a milky pale. The rest of them is shrouded in blankets. She can’t see the bandages. She can’t see what remains of their right arm.  
  
It feels like everything and the smallest thing all at once.  
  
Huey squeezes her hand. Webby realizes she’s been staring at Dewey for awhile and finally, finally tears her gaze away from what she knows will haunt her nightmares forever.  
  
“Louie,” he whispers. Louie looks back up again blearily. “Come on. You’re gonna hurt your back like that.”

Louie only lets his head fall down and huffs.  
  
Huey sighs, rolling his eyes. He lets go of Webby’s hand, hoisting Louie up and out of the chair. Louie yelps, then seemingly resigns himself to this fate immediately, melting into Huey’s arms. Huey sets Louie down onto one of the sleeping bags, throwing some of the blankets over him. He then looks expectantly at Webby. She blinks.  
  
“Oh! Uh. Right,” Webby mumbles, laying down next to Louie. He immediately koala grips her arm. She suspects this time was on purpose.  
  
Huey lays down next to her, messing with the blankets and pillows before being satisfied. He then rolls over, halfway hugging Webby, and holds her hand.  
  
The familiar feeling of cuddling her siblings, the sense of belonging and love she gets every time is... off, when there’s the lack of another. The empty space burns in her mind, grasping to dig up every detail of the one thing she truly wants to forget.  
  
She shoves it down. Not now, not here. It’s time to sleep.  
  
One last glance is spared to the lump on the bed. It’ll have to be enough for now, she thinks.  
  
Someday, it will be enough.


End file.
